One thing had been gnawing at me ever since we entered Domatio Sol Invictus, the Hall of the Unconquered Suns. We had never heard of this place before, and it didn't even exist in the game.

Furthermore, most of the information about the Secret Bosses displayed here couldn't be found anywhere else. Not in the archives, not in the ancient tomes, not even among the most well-guarded records of the guilds. Some pieces of information were only passed down by word of mouth. And yet, it was all here, neatly laid out as if it had never been a secret to begin with.

Including Lich King. The very entity I had spent so long searching for.

There was no way the Palace could have hidden all of this through conventional means. No bribery, no censorship could account for such a complete erasure of knowledge.

Which meant I had to be very, very careful dealing with them.

I hesitated before answering, keeping my expression unreadable. "There's nothing I can offer to the Palace. Even Horrogoth didn't drop a single Mana Stone."

The reaction was instant.

Bishop Malven's smile thinned, his gaze turning sharp.

So I was right. This had been their main objective.

I could only hope my answer wouldn't register as a lie. Soul Fragments that had already been consumed couldn't be retrieved. Not even by them.

I held my breath as my heart pounded.

Nothing happened.

A moment later, Malven let out a deep, hearty laugh. "Hahaha! Well then, I believe that concludes our little discussion." He deactivated The Eye of Truth with an easy, practiced motion, and stored it in his pouch.

But I wasn't fooled.

That awkward tension still lingered in the air, and I knew. He wasn't satisfied.

Luckily for me, he hadn't caught onto the half-truth hidden in my words.

Suddenly, my head felt heavy.

A dense fog clouded my thoughts, and my vision blurred as if a thick curtain had been drawn over my eyes.

[Willpower exceeds 100. Mnemonic Graft effects have been partially neutralized]

Flashes of light flickered before my eyes. At the same moment, a torrent of false memories flooded into my mind. Vivid, real, too real… but undeniably fabricated.

It was like watching a scene I hadn't lived through, but had been forced to remember.

Instead of being interrogated under the scrutiny of the Eye of Truth, I was having a friendly, casual chat with Bishop Malven. We discussed my role in Team Ironwood, my thoughts on the Royal Palace, even my opinions on the Novortus Church.

Is this Mnemonic Graft?

I was almost certain this was a high-level priest spell, a mental overwrite technique used to plant false memories.

But something was off. My real memories were still intact. The fake ones hadn't replaced them completely, they just layered on top.

I didn't have time to sit and overanalyze. I had to play along, let the performance continue.

Bishop Malven smiled, a pleasant, perfectly measured expression. "Thank you for your time. Shall we rejoin the others?"

His acting was flawless. Smooth. Unshakably composed, like nothing unusual had happened.

Luckily for me, I still remembered what really had.

We left the small chamber and returned to the dining hall, where the others were still seated. Alistair Valtieri, Priestess Seraphine, and the rest of Team Ironwood.

"How was your little chat?" Alistair asked with a cheerful tone. "We've been having a great time here. Muradin's been keeping us entertained with his ridiculous stories."

"We talked about a lot of things," I replied evenly. "Mostly druid matters and Tower expedition."

"Excellent," Alistair said, standing from his seat. "I won't keep you any longer. I'm sure you're all eager to get some rest."

But then his tone shifted.

"Before that… I have one last request."

His expression turned serious, eyes flicking to Priestess Seraphine.

She gave a silent nod and stepped forward. "This is merely a standard security procedure of the Royal Palace," she explained, raising her staff and channeling a soft glow from its crystal tip.

"I need you all to make an oath, never to speak of what happened today. The existence of Domatio Sol Invictus must not fall into the wrong hands."

"I understand," Darwyn said solemnly. "I swear not to speak a word to anyone about today's events."

One by one, the rest of Team Ironwood followed suit, pledging their silence.

As I spoke the oath, I felt a burning sensation across my lips… and down into my chest.

What a troublesome spell.

"Once again, on behalf of the Royal Palace and the Novortus Church," Alistair said, smiling now that the ritual was complete, "thank you."

Of course, this wasn't just ceremony. Not even close.

Breaking that oath would bring consequences. Real ones. Dangerous ones.

But at the very least, I had gained some valuable insights from this encounter.

The first, and most obvious: more than half of the Secret Bosses had never been documented. That was both good and bad news. It meant there were still plenty of unknowns in the Tower of Ascension. But it also meant that if our names ever appeared here again, we'd be in serious trouble.

The second: the Tower of Ascension was at least 250 years old. That gave me a rough timeline to work with.

And the third, the most important revelation of all…

The Royal Palace and the Novurtus Church couldn't be trusted.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my shoulders to relax.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

I was incredibly lucky I had consumed the Soul Fragment back then.

Because if I hadn't… they would have taken it from me.

***

Before long, we were escorted back to the main entrance, where Sergeant Dorian stood waiting beside a carriage. As we approached, he handed back our inventories, or at least, what was left of them.

Muradin's face lit up as he rifled through his belongings. His beloved armor was still there, seemingly untouched. Darwyn, too, let out a breath of relief as he pulled out his bow, the one he had obtained from Infergoth.

Elena, ever the meticulous treasurer, wasted no time in checking our most valuable items. One by one, she carefully retrieved the Soul Fragments we had earned through blood and sweat.

Two Morgoth Soul Fragments.

One Bristlegoth Soul Fragment.

One Corruptus Spriggan Soul Fragment.

She frowned. Then, her movements became more frantic as she searched deeper into the inventory, double-checking everything.

A moment later, she froze.

Her eyes went wide.

Her expression turned pale.

"…They're missing," she whispered.

Muradin's face darkened. "What?" He stomped forward, fists clenched. "Our valuables are gone?!"

Dorian blinked at us, feigning confusion. "Are you sure? Maybe you should check again. Properly this time."

A cold, sinking feeling settled in my stomach.

We immediately checked our inventories, combing through every single item, hoping, praying, that she was wrong.

Even Orin double-checked.

Nothing.

Three of our most precious Soul Fragments were gone.

"This is unacceptable!" Darwyn's voice was tight with restrained anger. "Not just one, but three of our items are missing!"

Dorian sighed dramatically, sticking a pinky into his ear as if we were merely an inconvenience. "We followed protocol, as always. Your inventories were stored securely and never opened. Maybe you misplaced them."

His smirk widened as he turned to his men, who stood silently behind him. "Isn't that right?"

The Royal Guards nodded in unison.

Dorian shrugged. "Well, if you have proof, feel free to file an official complaint." His smile turned razor-sharp. "Otherwise, I suggest you get in the carriage. Unless, of course…" He gestured lazily toward the palace gates.

"…you'd prefer a visit from the Royal Knights?"

A heavy silence fell between us.

Darn it.

That uneasy feeling that had been gnawing at me this whole time. It was right.

We had been robbed.

And there wasn't a damn thing we could do about it.

Not here. Not in the Palace's territory.

Starting a scene now would be suicidal.

I forced myself to swallow my anger. For now.

***

As soon as we returned to the heart of the city, the Royal Guards wasted no time peeling away, leaving us behind without so much as a second glance.

Good. The last thing I wanted was their presence lingering any longer.

"We need to move fast," I said, once they were out of sight. "Talk while we walk."

"Elena, you already placed your new spell, right?" Darwyn asked his sister.

"Yes. Fortunately, they didn't notice," Elena replied.

"Good job, sis!" Orin chimed in.

We hurried back to our residence, not far from where we were. The moment we stepped inside, Elena darted straight to her room.

A few moments later, she emerged, cloaked in a long, hooded robe, its face partially obscured by the shadows of the fabric, with someone else.

"They're still nearby," she said, her voice low and serious.

Standing beside her was a figure wearing the same dark robe.

Silkshade Phantom.

Unlike Elena herself, Phantom carried an unsettling stillness, a perfect copy of her form but devoid of warmth.

I met Elena's eyes. "Remember, if anything happens, just run."

She gave a quick nod. The skill had a limited range. If Phantom strayed too far, it would vanish.

Orin fidgeted. "Be careful, sis."

Darwyn, ever the protective one, wrapped her in a brief hug. "Keep your distance. Stay aware."

Elena said nothing, just offered a determined nod before slipping out with Phantom.

The room fell into an uneasy silence as we exchanged glances, each of us trying to process the situation.

"So… what now?" Muradin finally asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Darwyn exhaled sharply, arms crossed. "For now, we leave it to Elena. If we get involved, the risk of getting caught will only increase."

"A-Are you saying we just do nothing?" Orin's voice wavered, hesitation clear in her eyes.

Muradin clenched his fists. "Hell no! Let me beat him up. We risked our lives for that loot! I spent an hour getting tossed around like a damn training dummy by that Guardian!" His frustration was palpable. The memory of our battle against Celerion still fresh in his mind.

"Not to mention the days we spent just getting to Frostfang Tundra," Orin added, her expression grim. "At the very least, we need to do something."

"Acting recklessly will only make things worse," I said. "It's better if we lay low for now and trust Elena. Don't worry, I'll gather as much information as I can on Dorian. I think I know just the right place to start."

"At least let me come with you!" Orin insisted.

"No. The more people, the more suspicious it'll look. Just stick to your routine like nothing happened," I replied firmly.

"Sounds like a solid plan," Darwyn said. "Let me know if you need help. I know a few trustworthy people in the guild."

"I'll head to Willow's End, then," Orin chimed in. "There's something I need to take care of."

Muradin stretched his arms with a grin. "Then I'll head home. Got something to do as well. Let's meet back here tomorrow night, yeah?"

"Yeah. Just be careful and don't say a word to anyone," I warned. "Remember, we're still bound by the Priestess' spell."

Muradin smirked, thumping his chest. "Relax. When it comes to keeping secrets, I'm the best."

I had serious doubts about that, but I kept them to myself.

"I'll keep my mouth shut," Darwyn added. "I'll drop by the pub and eavesdrop on the latest gossip. Might hear something useful."

With our plan set, we exchanged one last look before heading out. One by one, we stepped into the streets, each of us walking toward our destinations, hoping Elena would return with good news.

***

I stared intently at the man as I entered the room. His face was unfamiliar, yet there was something strangely familiar about it. Without thinking, my hand instinctively reached for my sub-space inventory.

"Hey, City Boy, what's with that look? Don't tell me you've got a crush on me, huh?" the middle-aged man said with a smile. His body was lean, but he carried himself with a certain dignified strength. I noticed the faded emblem on his chest, a symbol I recognized well. His face was clean-shaven, his hair cropped short. He had a stern, almost intimidating look to him, yet there was something fatherly about his presence as well. He looked vastly different from the last time we had met.

"Well, looks like you finally took a bath and cleaned yourself up after 100 years," I said, grinning. "I almost thought you were a thief."

My eyes widened in disbelief as I took in his new appearance. Now I can imagine that he was once part of the Royal Palace.

"I look handsome, don't I? Thanks to you, I've been able to start a new chapter in my life," he said proudly. "By the way, Samus is at the bookstore. He should be back soon. I know you must miss him."

"Ah, it seems he's making good use of his time," I replied with a smirk.

"Oh, and I managed to get a job at a butcher's shop. Not much salary, but enough to get by and save for the Palace taxes. The work's easy, especially since I'm used to handling knives."

"Well, that's good then," I replied. "At least you're keeping your promise. If not, I'm ready to kick you out of here." I grinned, though there was truth behind my words. "By the way, do you know anything about a Royal Guard named Dorian Ashford?"

Luther fell silent for a moment, trying to recall.

"Ah, the guard with the fiery-orange beard," Luther said. "I don't know much about him. As far as I know, he's relatively new to the Royal Guard, but his career has been impressive. He's risen quickly and even led a small team in no time. And sometimes, I see him in the Eastern District, without his uniform."

"Do you know what he's doing in the Eastern District? That place isn't exactly a spot the Royal Guard visits when they're not on duty," I asked, curiosity lacing my voice.

"Sorry, I don't know. I've only seen him a couple of times when I was… relaxing," Luther replied with a slight cough. I knew what that meant. He was probably drunk, stumbling around on the side of the street.

"Well, that's good enough for me," I said with a nod. "How about this?" I handed him a sheet of paper with several names I'd prepared.

Luther scanned the names on the paper. He paused after each one, shaking his head. When he got to the last name, his face hardened, and his eyes seemed to glaze over as if he were lost in thought. Then, he fixed his gaze on me, his expression unreadable. He looked angry, sad, and incredulous all at once.

"Where did you find this name?" he asked, his voice trembling. His reaction was completely unexpected.

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