Chapter 55: Fantastic, We Are Dead

Ethan had been holed up in his study all afternoon, organizing documents. Handing over to the expeditionary forces was no mere formality; he had to meticulously compile detailed reports on the geography of Creekwood Town, the previous cases of cults worshipping the dark gods, and any other intelligence that might be relevant, then deliver them to the commander of the expedition.

Though he enjoyed his leisure time, this was a matter of life and death.

How to set the trap, how to allocate troops, and where to make the decisive stand—every decision would determine not only the fate of the expeditionary force but also that of Creekwood Town. Should the ambush fail, no one could guarantee the nightmare cult wouldn’t unleash their wrath upon the town. From the information Ethan had gleaned from the Griffon Daily, if the cult set their sights on Creekwood, Rivertown would serve as a grim warning.

But the deeper he delved into the report, the more furrowed his brow became.

They knew nothing about the two nightmare cult members—not their identities, ranks, paths, or even which dark god they worshipped. The sole piece of intelligence was a tip from an informant that two cult members had arrived at the empire’s border.

This was no good omen.

Had Ethan been a high-ranking official, he would never have rushed to mobilize such a large-scale expedition with such incomplete intelligence. The noise they were making along the way made it impossible to avoid alerting the enemy.

But in reality, he was nothing more than an E-level investigator at the Creekwood Town Containment Bureau base station; the empire’s upper echelons didn’t even know he existed. All Ethan could do was record his concerns at the end of the document, hoping the expedition commander was a wise leader who would weigh every decision carefully.

Seeing Ethan buried in his work, Cat refrained from disturbing him. With graceful steps, she entered the kitchen, leapt onto the counter, and watched the little hen set up a cauldron. The hen spread out herbs she had scavenged from somewhere on the floor. She even understood how to carry a bucket with her mouth, pour water into the cauldron, and light the fire beneath it with a wooden stick.

Throughout Ethan’s report writing, the clinking and clattering from the next room occasionally broke the silence. Only after finishing his duties did Ethan have time to check the source of the noise.

Opening the kitchen door, he momentarily doubted if age had prematurely blurred his vision.

What was happening here?

A ragdoll cat was instructing a hen to brew potions.

Several jars of finished potions lined the counter, their contents glowing with a mysterious light.

Cat glanced at him as if to say, “If it’s nothing urgent, don’t disturb us.” Her aura turned icy cold, strangely reminiscent of the oppressive presence of a strict homeroom teacher.

“I’m heading out to work now. I’ll cook for you all when I get back tonight,” Ethan said, pointing toward the door.

Miss Chloe tried to nod in response but was swiftly tapped on the forehead by a cat’s paw.

“Meow!”

The stern scolding made Chloe immediately clutch a metal rod she’d found somewhere and run around the cauldron, stirring the murky liquid inside.

Cat then gave Ethan a reassuring nod, a look that said everything was under control.

What a reliable cat.

Yet Ethan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Suddenly, it struck him like a scene from a family drama: the mother tutoring the child at home while the father, briefcase in hand, heads out for overtime.

But with official business waiting, he had no time to dwell on it. He packed up his files and hurried to the agreed meeting point.

The location was the southwestern corner of the town, the gateway to Gear City. In the report, Ethan had specifically advised that if the two nightmare cult members intended to reach the empire’s large cities, the expeditionary force should set an ambush at the mountain pass between Creekwood Town and Gear City. The terrain was treacherous, and with firearms and arrows, it would be easy to hold the high ground against foes below.

The dense forest was another geographical advantage, perfect for launching fire attacks.

Ivy was already waiting at the crossroads. Seeing Ethan approach, she waved to him from afar.

She noticed the documents clutched in Ethan’s arms and nodded in approval—this was why she wanted Ethan as her assistant. Her conviction had never wavered, but since he was so devoted to his work at the Containment Bureau, she had to employ more subtle tactics.

She still had plenty of time to build rapport with Ethan, to make him increasingly dependent on having such a good superior.

After night had fully fallen, urgent hoofbeats echoed outside the town. In the blink of an eye, two figures sped into Ethan’s view. The foremost was a woman with striking red hair tied in a high ponytail, billowing behind her. Close behind was a boy of about fourteen or fifteen, clad in armor far heavier than the woman’s.

The woman pulled tight on the reins, and as her white horse reared, she vaulted off with a graceful front flip, landing steadily before the two men amidst the interplay of moonlight and street lamps.

It was only then that Ethan noticed the woman did not carry the custom slender sword of an imperial knight at her waist, but rather a weapon resembling an arquebus.

Why go to such flashy lengths just to meet?

Ethan silently scoffed but watched as Ivy stepped forward and embraced the red-haired woman warmly.

“This is Lady Rivermoon, a high-ranking knight of the Naseriel Cathedral. His Majesty Henry himself appointed her Imperial Knight Commander.”

Clearly, Rivermoon was not her given name but a title granted by the empire.

Rivermoon waved carelessly at Ethan and spoke up, “Are you Miss Ivy’s subordinate? I’ve watched her grow up. I once wanted her to join the kingdom’s army, but unfortunately, she has no interest in swordplay or firearms.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Rivermoon,” Ethan said, bowing.

The boy who accompanied Rivermoon secured his horse and then stood properly behind her.

The arrival of the Imperial Knight Commander bolstered Ethan’s confidence.

Simply put, that title meant the red-haired woman was one of the empire’s most formidable warriors, underscoring the high-level attention this mission was receiving.

Rivermoon casually rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder and pushed him forward. “This is Lance, a very brave youth who volunteered for this expedition. I have high hopes for him. Should I fall in battle someday, he might well take my place.”

“Don’t speak such unlucky words,” Ivy said with an exasperated tone, making it clear this wasn’t Rivermoon’s first blunt remark. She keenly noticed the boy’s skirt armor and the three scroll-like magical parchments strapped to his waist alongside his standard longsword.

“He’s studied magic as well?”

“Oh, those? They were gifts from his beloved before he left,” Rivermoon teased. Lance immediately blushed, stammering, “That was Miss Anna. She was just worried…”

Hmm?

Ethan’s gaze sharpened instantly.

Miss Anna, a beloved, three magical scrolls, and a grand, perilous expedition—

All the clues snapped together in an instant, reminding him immediately of what the old steward had said:

“They were sent on a one-way mission. That boy was never meant to return.”

The confidence he had just built crumbled to dust.

Great. The old steward’s chosen cannon fodder. We’re doomed.