Rorschach held it up as if to consult it. In response, the feather inside the pearl flickered twice before going dark again.

’Is it out of "juice"?’

Rorschach took a small vial from his ring and poured out some Blue Crystals. He used the pearl to crush the crystals, and just as he expected, the high concentration of Ether was completely absorbed. The golden feather regained some of its luster.

"Now that you’ve eaten, get to work," Rorschach commanded coldly. "The person I need you to find is named Andre. He’s a young man, a bit younger than me. This is his clothing and something he uses often."

The pearl rolled over the clothes, then stopped in front of a charcoal pencil. It seemed to be a bit traumatized by the thing.

Next, Rorschach spread out a map of Valuva—the same one he’d first gotten from the Guild. He tossed the pearl like a marble. It landed on the research building, then rolled all the way to the edge of the city.

’Don’t leave the city.’ Rorschach watched nervously as Balan’s Pearl rolled, until it finally spun to a stop in a wealthy district.

’What a convenient Divination tool.’ Satisfied, Rorschach marked the map and, just in case, kept the pearl on his person.

"Rorschach, your bread." Pascal knocked and entered, handing Rorschach a meal. "You have a result already?" His senior was astonished. He couldn’t imagine what kind of Magic Rorschach had used; he had never seen such a convenient Prophetic Magic.

"Let’s go." Rorschach took a large bite of bread and set out on his search once more.

...

Outeur was Valuva’s largest high-end residential district. The Robed Nobility and famous writers favored buying detached homes here, and a teahouse was always just a short stroll away.

Andre’s location was an unremarkable mansion. Like the other detached homes, it had small front and back yards, barely large enough to park a carriage.

Its main advantage was a spacious basement. It had been magically altered, not only expanding the space but also adding better protective measures. After the owner’s modifications, it had now become a miniature dungeon.

Andre’s hands and feet were bound. His kidnapper threw him into a cell and secured it with a Secret Technique Lock.

"Don’t try anything funny. I can see your every move!" After receiving this warning, Andre had remained here, lying on a straw mat damp with moisture.

Sharing his fate were several other young men and women of similar age. After locking Andre in, the kidnapper dragged a young man out of the adjacent cell and shoved him away.

A short while later, Andre heard a blood-curdling scream and smelled the stench of blood spreading throughout the dungeon.

His mouth was gagged and a burlap sack was over his head, blinding him. The others were in the same state. Some were extremely weak and passed out from the shock of the scream and the smell of blood.

’I have to get out!’ He thought of many ways, but with his hands and feet bound so tightly, he couldn’t move at all. What was even more despairing was his discovery that he couldn’t control the Ether in his surroundings, which meant he couldn’t use Magic.

’Damn it, damn it! I don’t know why I was kidnapped and thrown in this dungeon, but that scream and the smell of blood just now mean my fate won’t be a good one.’

He tried ramming the door with his head, but it was a laughable effort. The magically-reinforced iron door didn’t budge an inch. Andre then fumbled around the small, single-person cell, his hands finding only cold rock, dirt, and rotting straw.

’What do they want?’ After struggling in vain for a long time, the dungeon’s master showed no sign of bringing food. Andre was now thirsty and hungry, so he lay down to conserve his strength.

’Did I fall asleep?’ He awoke from one nightmare into another. It was still the same dark cell. He banged against the iron door, making some noise, and received a CLANG in response.

’There are others here.’ This brought Andre a small measure of comfort, even though his situation hadn’t improved. The noise also attracted the kidnapper, whose furious voice echoed through the dungeon: "Damn it! I told you to keep quiet!"

A cell door opened. Someone else was likely being dragged off somewhere for some unknown purpose, but it was probably still within the dungeon. The terror of the complete unknown put immense pressure on his nerves.

By now, Andre’s nerves were stretched to their absolute limit. Since he couldn’t see anyway, he simply closed his eyes. With his vision gone, his other senses—hearing, smell, and even touch—seemed to sharpen. It felt as if a powerful wind was battering him from all sides.

Having studied in the Alchemy Department, he gradually realized this was the Ether all around him. His own Magic was like a candle flame in a gale; any bit he managed to gather was immediately blown away.

’Andre, think! How did you used to cast Magic?!’ he warned himself. ’Something terrible could happen at any moment...’

POOF!

Miraculously, Andre managed to ignite a flame, and it began to burn him!

Intense pain washed over him, but he gritted his teeth and let the fire burn. After a moment, he rolled onto the damp straw pile to extinguish it. The entire time, Andre clenched his jaw so hard he could have shattered his molars, managing to keep from making a sound.

Though his skin was burned, he had succeeded in burning through the thick hemp ropes binding him. With a surge of effort from his arms and legs, he broke free. His mobility restored, Andre ripped off the sack over his head, and his eyes quickly adjusted to his surroundings.

Meanwhile, there were two Mages in the basement. Both had previously appeared at the small gathering in Granor.

One was old and one was young. The younger one was mixing two vials of blood plasma, checking the state of the mixture after an Oscillation. "No coagulation. His blood is usable."

This villa was a property of the Fernan Clan. Old Fernan and Little Fernan were both Mages. Old Fernan was stuck at the Middle Tier, unable to advance for a long time. Feeling old and frail, he was in need of a way to extend his life.

He had found a method in an ancient text: first, he would let out his own blood, and then transfuse the blood of a young person. As a noble Mage, the blood of a commoner could not be allowed to defile his body. Unfortunately, Little Fernan wasn’t filial enough to give his own blood to his father.

Little Fernan, for his part, was proud of having two generations of Mages in his family. But fate enjoys teaching the proud a lesson. None of his descendants, whether legitimate or illegitimate, had shown any Magic Talent.

He wanted to research how Magic Talent appeared.

The needs of both father and son were conveniently met by the High Master’s students who had awakened their Casting Ability. To their delight, they discovered that some of these students lived in the ant-nest-like slums.

If people with status, or even children from the countryside, went missing, the Security Team or the Church might come looking. But these outcasts were perfect. No one would notice, no one...

As recorded in the ancient text, after confirming there would be no coagulation, Little Fernan drew more blood plasma from the dying boy. The blood donor was strapped tightly to a bed with leather belts, though even if he weren’t restrained, he no longer had the strength to move.

"Shouldn’t we be using them more sparingly?" He wasn’t interested in his old man’s life-extension plan. The last one, whose blood had clashed with the Fernan bloodline and coagulated, had become Little Fernan’s experiment. The current bloody stench in the basement came from that useless thing, who was now packaged up and ready to be fed to the hounds.

"I want them fresh and healthy! After you’re done drawing from this one, give him food and water, time to recover, then find the next. We can rotate through the blood bags..." Old Fernan lay on another bed, right next to the blood donor.

"Fine, as you wish. But to think I have to personally feed these wretches... what a pain..."

He hung a blood bag made from a pig’s bladder for his father and began the transfusion, then headed to the dungeon to find his next target... ’Yesterday’s new goods were pretty good...’

’He’s coming!’ Andre heard footsteps in the dungeon again. He held his breath and hid to the side of the cell door.

TAP, TAP, TAP... Andre’s nerves were stretched to the breaking point. The kidnapper really did stop! Right in front of his cell.

The Secret Technique Lock and the Iron Lock were undone one by one. The rusted iron door opened with a CREAK.

"Where’d he go? Did I remember wrong?"

Little Fernan stepped into the cell, about to use a [Light Technique] to see the situation clearly. From the side of the door, Andre leaped onto his back, locking his arms tightly around the kidnapper’s throat!