Chapter 46: Prelude to the Snowfall
[You have obtained Ability: Phase Shuttle. Agility +15, Mystery +15, Charm +15. You have gained the specialty
[Low Level Phase Stabilization]. You have gained the specialty
[Low Level Spatiotemporal Perception].]
[[Low Level Phase Stabilization] Specialty: When activating [Phase Shuttle], failure will no longer trigger spatiotemporal backlash.]
[[Low Level Spatiotemporal Perception] Specialty: You gain instinctive warning when an attack is about to strike you.]
Name: Hodell
Strength: 32
Agility: 59
Endurance: 45
Intelligence: 122
Mystery: 49
Charm: 24
Luck: 6
Energy: 520 [Lv.5]
Health: 865/865
Stamina: 1318/1318
Power Level: 800
[Use Intelligence to write your epitaph. Use Luck to choose your burial site.]
Hodell stared at the line for a long moment, then muttered through gritted teeth, "Will this thing ever stop? I already have six times the protagonist's Luck."
...
Knock. Knock knock.
Knock. Knock knock.
Knock knock knock.
Knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock.
Knock!
Outside the door, Lamia was already on the verge of losing her composure.
At first, she had still maintained her usual timid posture, knocking softly and patiently, but after receiving no response again and again, the corners of her mouth began to twitch.
Was he dead asleep?
In the cold corridor, a draft blew in from the far end, carrying a faint chill. Lamia instinctively hugged her arms and began seriously considering whether to leave and come back tomorrow.
Then a low voice came from behind her.
"It is this late. What are you looking for him for?"
Lamia went stiff.
A thin layer of sweat instantly formed on her temples. "I... I..."
She pressed a hand to her chest and slowly turned around.
Hodell stood there, head slightly tilted, looking at her with open curiosity.
The tips of Lamia's ears flushed red almost instantly.
Her fist clenched. For one moment, it even rose halfway, as if she really intended to punch him. But in the end, she froze, swallowed it back down, and turned it into a glare full of humiliation and anger.
Hodell ignored her look, stepped aside, and opened the door.
The next second, the door shut behind them with a clean bang.
Lamia ground her teeth and shoved the supply crate at him. Hodell caught it casually.
"I am a public figure now," he said while setting the crate down and opening it. "A very busy one, under a great deal of scrutiny. Aren't you worried someone might notice you coming here?"
"That is none of your concern."
Her answer came out cold and sharp, like an irritated cat whose fur had already blown up.
Hodell began sorting through the contents of the crate at an unhurried pace.
After a few heavy breaths, Lamia finally forced her emotions back down and returned to business.
"You wrote in your report that the faction behind this has already begun controlling officials."
"Yes."
"Why are you so certain?"
Hodell didn't look up.
"Because it fits too well. First, from a technical standpoint, controlling people is often more stable and efficient than winning them over or training them. Second, we already know they have people within the government. Third, the mental states of several officials have been off for some time. Strange lethargy, memory lapses, odd illnesses. And finally, the preliminary analysis of that component already points in that direction."
Lamia frowned and bit her lip before taking two steps closer.
"What else do you know?"
Hodell continued arranging the supplies, though from an angle she could not see, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
"Does your organization not have its own intelligence network?"
A vein nearly popped at Lamia's temple.
"We know that faction has a long term plan. We do not know who is carrying it out or how deep the roots go. You have seen more than we expected. Since you can deduce this much from fragments, then say the rest."
Only then did Hodell lift his head.
"What you have never truly pinned down is their objective," he said. "Those officials are not merely sick. Their mental states are being tampered with. Once that technique is stable enough, they will not need to infiltrate society slowly. They will be able to guide it directly by controlling the right people."
Lamia's brows drew together.
"Guide society directly..." she repeated in a low voice. "So you believe their real aim is not simply infiltration, but replacement of decision making itself?"
Hodell gave a faint shrug.
"Why else would they choose Oluson? It is chaotic, fragmented, and under pressure from every direction. Perfect for field testing, perfect for refinement, perfect for hiding mistakes inside noise. If their goal were something simpler, there are easier places to operate."
Lamia fell silent.
The more she thought about it, the more serious her expression became.
At last she said, "If they succeed, it will interfere with our plans as well."
Hodell laughed inwardly.
So that was the real concern.
"Then expose them," he said lightly. "Find the roots and tear them out before they spread."
Lamia seemed not to notice the little hook buried in the line. She was already thinking ahead.
Then Hodell asked, almost idly, "What trouble did your organization run into before?"
"I told you, you do not need to..." She stopped halfway through the sentence.
Her eyes slowly rose to meet his.
For two full seconds, she said nothing.
Then she tilted her head.
Hodell continued sorting the contents of the crate as if he had asked nothing important at all.
After a long moment, Lamia's gaze shifted to the crate itself. Something subtle passed through her expression, then disappeared.
When she finally turned toward the door, her voice had become completely neutral again.
"Good night, Specialist Ryan."
"Take care," Hodell said. "I will not see you out."
The door closed behind her.
Only then did Hodell look properly at the supply crate.
The moment he had stepped into the room, he had noticed it.
A thin layer of energy was hidden on the surface of the crate.
Because of prior experience, he had not touched it at once. Instead, he had calmly checked the other contents first.
Now, recalling the way Lamia had looked at the crate before leaving, he felt an odd suspicion stir.
Had she realized he noticed it?
Or...
He flicked a finger.
The thin layer of energy peeled away from the crate like transparent silk and floated above his palm.
Hodell narrowed his eyes.
"It is not sleep aid energy."
It was similar in structure to the traces he had encountered before, but not the same. More like a pulse. A faint signal.
As he examined it, a subtle vibration seemed to pass through his body. At first he thought it was external, but it wasn't. A slight numb shock ran along his index finger, and his heartbeat sped up on instinct.
He immediately looked up.
Outside the window, a bank of dark clouds had drifted over part of the starry sky, dimming the light.
Hodell rubbed his chin.
"Am I becoming too sensitive..."
No. Not too sensitive. Just more responsive.
He looked again at the thin energy thread suspended over his palm.
"...A warning?"
...
In a private study elsewhere in the city, Elanis stood before a desk in a silver edged mage robe. Her regulation gloves came off one by one and landed on the tabletop with a little more force than necessary.
On the desk, a murky crystal sphere gave off a low hum.
Mana flowed into it, and an image took shape.
A man emerged within the sphere.
His hair was braided in tight yellow plaits. His ears were pointed, his nostrils narrow and slit like a beast's, and behind him spread a pair of vast yellow wings that filled much of the projection. He carried both elegance and something ancient, something predatory.
"I expected better news, Elanis," he said softly.
"The operation failed, Troy."
Elanis planted both hands on the desk. Her knuckles whitened.
"Not only did Ryan refuse to be turned, he deduced my identity and part of your operational objective inside the General Administration itself."
Troy's pointed ears twitched slightly. His expression cooled at once, though his voice remained calm.
"So. He is clever."
He leaned forward a little inside the projection.
"Clever people are always troublesome. One loves their usefulness and hates their choices."
Elanis said nothing.
Troy continued, "Your task was to evaluate and recruit him. If that failed, then yes, he would naturally become a risk."
Elanis's eyes hardened.
"He became a risk because your methods were too extreme. That pursuit nearly turned an entire district into a battlefield. Do not speak to me about careful reform after that."
She took a breath and went on, her tone steady but edged.
"If our goal is really to break bloodline theory and overturn the old hierarchy, then a Hybrid talent like Ryan should have been someone we tried to win over. Yet from the beginning, your camp listed him as a target to be controlled. That tells me far more than any speech about ideals."
Troy's wings lowered slightly.
"Do you think I do not know that?" he asked, voice hoarse with restrained anger. "Do you think I enjoy any of this?"
His gaze lifted, fierce and bright.
"I am a Hybrid, Elanis. My own blood is proof enough of how this world works. No one hates this structure more than I do."
Then his tone softened.
"But the world does not give people like us room for peaceful negotiation. It never has. These methods are a necessary surgery. Painful, yes. Bloody, yes. But necessary."
He looked directly at her.
"Ryan is a tragedy. He should have been one of ours. Instead, he clings to the approval of the very system that would dissect him if it found a reason. How do you negotiate ideals with a person like that?"
Elanis stayed silent for a few seconds.
Then she said quietly, "And if the cure becomes another disease?"
Troy looked at her for a long time.
At last he smiled, though there was fatigue behind it.
"That is why I need you. You are the conscience within this work. If one day the line is crossed, you have the authority to help destroy it."
Elanis did not answer.
"I will handle the cleanup," Troy said. "You remain where you are. The Ministry of Magic is still one of the most important fronts for us."
The projection began to flicker.
Before it vanished completely, he left her with one final line.
"Remember, Elanis. We are saving civilization. Some sacrifices are inevitable."
The crystal returned to stillness.
Elanis stood motionless, staring at her warped reflection on its surface.
Outside the window, the night had grown even darker.
...
When Hodell entered the ward, Baron was turned toward the window.
The healing array hummed quietly. The air smelled faintly medicinal.
On the bedside table lay the diagnostic report.
Hodell picked it up.
The paper rustled softly.
[Spinal neurogenic injury: irreversible.]
[Permanent loss of combat capability.]
Hodell walked to the bed and sat down. The chair gave a dry creak.
Baron did not look back.
After a long silence, he finally spoke.
"You saw it?"
"Yes."
"Good." Baron curled his lip slightly. "At least it is quiet."
The room fell silent again.
Then, without warning, Baron's hand shot out and clamped around Hodell's wrist.
His grip was still powerful. Burning hot. Trembling.
"Ryan."
He called the name without turning his head. His eyes stayed fixed on the ceiling.
"My battlefield..." His throat bobbed. "It is gone."
Every word sounded like it had been dragged through blood.
Then he finally said the only thing left to say.
"For me... kill them all."
Hodell did not pull away.
He tightened his grip in return.
"Okay."
...
By the time Hodell left the medical building, the sky had already gone gray.
He returned to the office and spread every clue he had across the desk like fragments of an unfinished puzzle. The pattern was there. He could feel it now. But one critical piece was still missing.
A knock came at the door.
Kyle stepped inside, face hard and tired.
Without preamble, he dropped a thin metal folder onto the desk.
"It just arrived. Internal process copy." His voice was low, loaded with suppressed anger. "Minutes from the General Administration Interdepartmental Coordination and Risk Assessment Committee. They reviewed our preliminary operational report."
Hodell opened it.
The paper was cold. The language precise. Standardized. Bloodless.
Agenda: Risk Assessment Regarding the Recent Direction of Operation Dust Purge
Committee Member A: The operation has already caused multiple high intensity engagements and damage to urban facilities. Subsequent actions must more fully account for public safety costs and logistical strain.
Committee Member B: Allegations involving consciousness influence or control are severe by nature. Based on the current evidence chain, a higher evidentiary threshold must be met before targeted investigation of specific departments or personnel can begin, so as to avoid unnecessary interdepartmental tension and legal complications.
Committee Member C: The decisiveness of the field investigators is commendable. However, in highly complex cases involving both political and technical dimensions, team decision making and cross field consultation should be strengthened to avoid errors caused by informational blind spots and professional limitations.
Committee Recommendation: Non binding review, delay expansion, strengthen procedural filtering.
Hodell closed the folder.
"They are buying time."
Kyle gave a humorless laugh.
"More than that. They are setting up barricades. Any investigation that touches high level officials now has to pass through them first."
His finger tapped several names on the file.
"At least three of these committee members are closely connected to the very officials showing abnormal mental symptoms."
"So they are shields."
"Using procedure as armor," Kyle said. "Protecting whatever sits behind them."
He exhaled slowly.
"Commander Mars is doing what he can. But politics..." He looked away. "Politics can be filthier than the battlefield."
Hodell nodded.
The name of the system mission still echoed quietly in his mind.
Cancer of Civilization.
He pushed the folder back across the desk.
"They want a report?" he asked.
Then he rose, walked to the window, and looked outside.
Snow had begun to fall.
Not heavy yet. Just the first scattered flakes, drifting uncertainly before sticking to the windowsill.
"Then I will give them one," he said. "A report that points suspicion directly at the committee itself."
Kyle stared at him.
"How long?"
Hodell did not look back.
"Not long. Some clues are already on their way to me."
Outside, the snow thickened.
He turned from the window, no longer watching it.
He sat down, pulled a blank sheet of paper toward himself, and picked up a pen.
The sound of writing soon became the only sound in the room.
Beyond the glass, snow quietly buried the roads in every direction.
And in that white silence, a clean chessboard was laid out for him.
.....
[If you don't want to wait for the next update, read 50 chapters ahead on P@treon.]
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