Chapter 48: The Marionettes

The continuous blaze rose higher and higher, its thunderous roar shaking the heavens, while the air was thick with a pungent odor, as if it were the wrath of the gods themselves. Roy could still recall it with perfect clarity—a kind of awe that was simply beyond words.

With a grave expression, Roy said, “Your Highness, if I told you that they resolved the Green Goblin disaster in just half a day, would you believe me?”

“President, is this a joke?” Irene examined Roy’s face, searching for any hint of deception.

The devastation wrought by the Green Goblin disaster was plain for all to see; their terrifying reproductive capacity was enough to give any nation a headache. Worse still, Green Goblins were easily manipulated by evil gods, and usually, sacrificial rituals would be performed to summon more fiends.

Now, with nearly every region on the continent under the control of orderly races, there was scarcely time for the Green Goblin disaster to become a true calamity, never reaching the legendary proportions of swallowing the world. Even so, it was hardly something that could be dealt with so easily.

To resolve the Green Goblin disaster in half a day was simply impossible.

“I wish I were joking,” Roy replied with a helpless smile.

Had he not witnessed it himself, he would not have believed his own words.

“…” Irene fell silent for several seconds before asking, “President, what else do you know?”

She understood that the president had no reason to deceive her; such a lie would be easily exposed, since anyone could go to the outskirts of the Dead Marsh and learn the truth. Moreover, those black-haired humans they had encountered earlier, though seemingly feeble, possessed a gaze strikingly similar to that of a Shadow Master, one that gave her a sense of danger.

It was a very faint, almost negligible feeling, yet undeniably real.

“Are you certain you wish to hear, Your Highness?” Roy adjusted his glasses, a peculiar smile touching his lips.

“Speak.”

“They are like the high humans of legend, always accomplishing the unimaginable, performing miracles that seem as unreal as myth.” Roy’s words took on the cadence of a bard, spinning a tale that sounded like legend, yet was truth.

Monsters entirely wrought from steel; iron birds soaring the skies; mountains of food; weapons that thundered like storms…

A terrifying power of construction, expanding their town at a pace visible to the naked eye.

They accepted refugees unconditionally, providing them with snug, windproof houses, fine clothes, and three meals a day.

In a town established by the high humans, everyone—noble, extraordinary, or commoner—must obey the laws. All were equal. It was as if an invisible hand governed the entire town, regulating every affair.

There was a strange sense of order that was unsettling, even uncomfortable.

After hearing all this, Irene drew a deep breath and said, “President Roy, I’ll ask you once more—are you toying with me?”

“No, I’m telling the truth. If you don’t believe me, Your Highness, you may verify it yourself,” Roy replied, shaking his head.

Irene’s expression shifted several times before settling back into calm. “President Roy, there have been a number of unusual incidents in the capital lately. Do you know what’s going on?”

Seeing the princess and famed hunter change the subject, Roy heaved a sigh of relief and answered promptly, “There have been some odd incidents, but the vast majority are false—just people scaring themselves, spreading rumors.”

“For example, the widely circulated tale that people are mysteriously hanging themselves in the slums every day, their deaths gruesome, possibly manipulated by cultists sacrificing souls to evil gods—that’s not true. Hangings in the slums are unfortunately common, almost daily. The rest is just rumor, growing wilder with each telling.”

The Hunter’s Guild had investigated the various incidents in detail. Some events were indeed strange, but none bore the taint of the demonic. Most were simply rumors, speculation that snowballed into supposed fact.

“I thought as much. If the stories are all false, yet spread so rapidly, someone must be stirring up trouble behind the scenes,” Irene speculated.

A sudden thought flashed through her mind: perhaps the king was responsible for all this.

It all began with the Royal Knights’ rumored battle with some monster, resulting in over a dozen knights’ deaths.

“Could it have been the old man?” Irene asked directly.

Roy smiled wryly. “Your Highness is as forthright as ever. Couldn’t you be more discreet?”

The recent spate of strange events in the capital might intimidate the lower classes, but the elite could see at a glance that someone was orchestrating the chaos. And most had their suspicions.

The king’s performance was truly inept; with the slightest scrutiny, all suspicion fell on him. Yet, no one exposed him—after all, he was still the king, wielder of the Sword of Dawn, a true royal artifact.

What puzzled everyone was the king’s motive. Was he allying with cultists to seek some means of prolonging his life?

That was the obvious assumption, but on reflection, it seemed unlikely. The Sword of Dawn would never allow it, and most of the incidents were fabricated.

From any angle, causing such chaos to disrupt the royal succession did not serve the king’s interests.

“Wait. If all these bizarre incidents are fake, how do you explain the strange pillars of light and the noises in the sewers?” Irene’s brow furrowed deeply.

Her instincts told her that things were not as simple as they seemed.

Roy explained, “It could be some unknown magic. As for the howling, I recall that certain special professions can produce such sounds…”

He was interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps approaching from outside. The door swung open with a bang.

A young woman in a brown vest and Hunter’s Guild uniform, with chestnut hair, burst in, face pale with panic. “President! Ghouls have been discovered in the eastern slums of the capital!”

Both Roy and Irene were stunned, doubting their ears. How could ghouls appear in the capital?

The staff member, too flustered to notice their surprise, continued urgently, “Over a dozen hunters are injured, one Silver-ranked hunter is dead, and now a Gold-ranked hunter is fighting the ghoul.”

Roy snapped to attention, suppressing his doubts as he strode from the room, issuing rapid commands: “Notify all Gold-ranked hunters in the capital—proceed at once to the eastern slums and exterminate the ghoul. Don’t let it escape.”

“Inform the Royal Knights—have them seal off the slums. Also, send word to the sixth prince, the one supported by the Church of Holy Light, to aid in exterminating the ghoul.”

…

Within the palace, in a grand hall stripped bare, soldiers in camouflage uniforms moved in and out in a constant stream, delivering report after report.

At rows of wireless telegraphs, intelligence officers received updates from every corner of the capital.

“Sector C1, day five—Count Klee issued a third search order. Silver-ranked adventurer squad investigated; no anomalies found.”

“Sector A2, day five—three monster reports; a few giant rats found, nothing abnormal.”

“Sector A5—one anomaly reported; no hunter squads accepted the commission, so no investigation conducted.”

“Sector B1—six anomaly reports; one abnormal item discovered, now held by the Hunter’s Guild.”

Countless pieces of information converged here, gradually mapping out every detail of the capital.

In the corner, an old man sat on a folding sofa, watching the scene with a chill creeping over him. He glanced uneasily at the black-haired man beside him, whose smiling face hid a trace of terror deep in his eyes.

Feigning composure, the king said, “My dear Grand Duke, your wisdom truly astounds me.”

In recent days, the king had come to appreciate the power of cunning. The man before him, though weak in appearance, instilled a fear in him that not even the Sword of Dawn could dispel.

Without showing himself, without spending a single coin, he had managed to mobilize every faction in the capital to search for traces of cultist activity, uncovering one abnormal item after another.

In the past, the king could never have imagined such a thing. Even if the factions would cooperate, the cost of employing so many extraordinary individuals would be astronomical.

Yet this man had not spent a single copper; instead, he had the nobles and wealthy families pay hunters to comb through the city.

It was as though everyone had become puppets, dancing on this man’s strings, never realizing they were being manipulated.

He, too, might be ensnared, yet could find no reason to resist—for everything aligned with his own interests, everything made sense to him.

No supernatural compulsion was involved; the compliance was voluntary, even enthusiastic. That was the most terrifying aspect.

“Your Majesty, it is not my wisdom, but the power of the collective,” Qin Le replied with a smile. “I merely give the orders; alone, I could never accomplish such a feat. We only set things in motion and let them unfold; we are not the true authors of these events.”

It had begun as a sham—anyone with discernment could see that they were the ones behind the chaos. But as long as the fear persisted, the fiction would become reality.

Humans are social creatures, easily swayed by their surroundings. When everyone is on edge, suspicious of all things, the real horrors lurking in the dark will eventually rise to the surface.

And when those true horrors emerge, no one will remain calm.